Broken
by Angelhart79
Summary: When something is broken, it is hard to fix. But sometimes two broken parts can be combined together and turned into something that is complete. [written for tumblr's event MirSanWeek] (one shot)


**Broken**

AUTHOR: Angelhart  
GENRE: hurt/comfort  
STORY: one shot  
STATUS: complete  
RATING: T  
DISCLAIMER: Inuyasha belongs to Rumiko Takahashi / the television series are produced by Sunrise.

This short story was written for MirSanWeek 2016 (tumblr event)  
First day Prompt: _first signs / pink_

When something is broken, it is hard to fix. But sometimes two broken parts can be combined together and turned into something that is complete.

* * *

He ascended the steep hill with careful steps. No path, rough footing, a place not easy to climb, not easy to reach. A place one would go to find the needed solitude and the high percentage rate of remaining secluded.

He almost slipped once. The what first seemed a solid surface suddenly crumbling underneath his right foot. If it weren't for his staff, the end placed firmly in a crack, he would have lost his balance and probably ended up face forward against the rocks. And perhaps even sliding down the hill. Not something he was looking forward to.

His hand clutching onto the metal he found a spot that was holding his weight again and looked down. Worse-case scenario he could even break his neck.

But when he looked up at the figure standing on top of the flat platform of stone, he was filled with new determination. Replacing his staff on higher ground he continued his ascend.

She didn't look back or turned around when he had reached her level of altitude. Not even when he approached and stood a couple of meters behind her. Although still wearing the slayer uniform she looked disturbingly fragile. Standing so close to the edge, he couldn't help but to subdue this slight fear that she would jump down.

"Sango…" He called out her name, softly, not meaning to scare her and be the cause of the doom scenario that had managed to get stuck inside his head, if he would indeed startle her. The latter thought seemed however preposterous. During their group travels he had not seen this strong woman being caught off guard, ever. Always anticipating, always alert.

Only, she had not been herself. Something he managed to pick up the moment they left the battlefield. And after setting up camp here, she had diverted herself from the others, going to this spot.

She did not respond and suddenly it felt all wrong. Like he was intruding in something. She had come here to avoid them, him. And he became of aware of his rudeness of invading her privacy like that when it was obvious that she wanted to be alone.

He turned around and was about to leave when he heard her voice.

"Houshi-sama."

He turned his head, she was facing the clouds in the distance still. He waited patiently, turning fully to face her _if_ she would look back or even turn. He watched the wind play with the bounded strands of her pony tail for a moment before she finally turned her head.

She had not been crying, but she could have been. The features on her face incredible sad, heartbroken. It took all his willpower and reserve to not rush towards her and pull her in a warm embrace. A feeling he still was trying to comprehend. Was it natural friendship and need to comfort, or perhaps something more?

"Do you... remember your family?" She then asked. The question so hesitantly like she was still pondering on if she should ask it at all.

He wasn't responding right away and regretted that instantly when she averted her gaze to stare in the wide open space her spot provided. A dazzling view one could get lost in. But she seemed lost into something else. Her posture of someone defeated.

He tried to recoil back memories of his youth. Of times where he was still whole and not pierced with something deadly. Staring at his right hand, sealed with the rosary, he envisioned a storm raging within. And if he concentrated really hard, he could hear the wind even. A cursed vortex that would suck all life surrounding him. And in the end it would even take his own. An inevitable fate that he was trying to reverse. Something that seemed like an impossible task.

When he looked up and faced the back of the woman in front of him, he realized they were both cursed. She was beat and broken to become a demon's toy. A puppet. Like him. And they both were fighting to break the strings.

The memory that surfaced was painful, yet invigorating. It reminded him of why he was here. In the flashback in his mind he watched the vortex of his father's hand consume the earth surrounding the man and then he watched him disappear in the same blackness.

It was a memory that haunted him almost every night. And although he knew there had to be other memories of his life in which he was a happy lad and where his father seemed a man of no worries, he couldn't quite recall it. Like it was part of this curse that was bestowed on him. To leave him miserable and melancholy.

"Yes," he then answered softly. And it wasn't a lie. He did remember his family. Although it was vague and the images were shrouded in mist.

"I…"

She was looking for words, and he could hear the pain in her voice. He realized then that she had distanced herself from them to allow herself this fragile moment. Not wanting to display these emotions in their company. Seeing her like this stirred something inside of him. Something he had not felt before. A compassion combined with a serene love for this woman.

Perhaps in another life, in another future, one that wouldn't be so gloom, he would have asked her to bare his children with all sincerity. And he knew that if she would throw herself off this cliff, overcome with sadness and stuck in this cruel reality, that he would not hesitate a single second to jump right after her. Even it was only to break her fall and see her less hurt in the end. Even if it meant his death…

"It seems," she continued, her eyes still averted, "that with each passing moment the memory of them is slipping more and more away."

He knew what had brought her to this state. It was seeing her younger brother there this afternoon. Still caught in the demon's clutches. Manipulated and unable to break free like she had managed to. She was a woman he imagined who could do anything. Would not be stopped if she put her mind to it. Dangerous even if she were your opponent. Admirable.

Yet she was unable to rescue the one she held so dear. It was a cruel torture from the demon's part. Intentionally for sure.

They had learned what had come to pass. The horrid scene she had described once and of which he knew haunted her every night since then. The knowledge based on his own nightmare that visited him practically every night. With every awakening he could read it of her face. She would regain her usual composure soon after rising, forcing herself to put that unwavering mask into place. An illusionary strength. But he still noticed it anyway.

That she was broken. Like him.

He wanted to tell her that she should be strong, but how could he be convincing when he was struggling to find his own strength to keep on going every day?

"Sometimes… I wish… it would have ended that day. I… don't know how to fix this…"

He switched the staff to his other hand and dared to step closer. Placing his right hand on her left shoulder her eyes moved up to his.

"I believe the gods don't give us something we can't handle. And you're a strong woman, Sango. I believe you can overcome any hardship. Even this. It may seem grim now, but even a dreadful day can have an amazing sunset. Look."

And her eyes followed his to the colored sky as the sun was setting in the distance. The white of the clouds turning the deep red into a flush pink. And silently he watched the lighting fall upon her delicate features and underneath his fingers the tension in her muscles eased up.

"It is beautiful."

"Yes," he murmured absentmindedly, his eyes unable to tear away from her lovely face.

When she turned her head he removed his hand from her shoulder. Instinctively weary of her temper that was usually provoked by his touch. Even though it wasn't a touch like his customary advances, it was still self-preservation that made him step back and create a bit of a distance.

But she smiled at him and the sadness in her eyes seemed to have dissolved somewhat. And with her smile the future seemed a bit brighter like the illuminous sky. For he started this journey for salvation alone, but ended up with a mutual friend. And as he turned around, ready to descend, he smiled as well.

Maybe, maybe, if fate would be so kind they could find a way to fix those broken pieces together. And perhaps maybe manage to combine those broken parts into something that was whole.

It was his natural habit to think of the pun of such unity and it cost him stable footing as his foot slipped, just like his concentration. The result was fortunately not a broken bone, but a sore butt as he fell backwards and his behind broke the fall on the rocks.

He had already been close to the flat surface and due to his fall he slid down the remaining slope on his rear. At the bottom he rose to his feet, rubbing the soreness on his backside. Smirking he thought amused of how he rather caressed another curved behind than his own.

But there would always be tomorrow.

For even after the black depressing darkness of night there was always a bright new sunrise.

* * *

A/N: I had two story ideas for MirSanWeek and was divided between them. Then suddenly I was writing this.

I wanted to write a fragile moment between this pairing. Something that brought them closer together and could have happened in the InuYasha canon reality.


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